


I Look Upon a Pinhead and I See Angels Dancing.

by kiitos



Category: The Libertine (2004)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiitos/pseuds/kiitos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George Etherege suffers though his play is his greatest yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Look Upon a Pinhead and I See Angels Dancing.

The first time George saw them do Man of Mode, Johnny wasn’t quite dead and George shifted in his seat, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders as the man on stage died. Alcock was waiting for him when he went downstairs and for the first time since George had known the man, he saw him to be anxious.

“Mr Etherege, my Lord is…” He trailed off as though words escaped him. “Will you come to him?” He practically begged.

George was half considering going when he was set upon by well-wishers and Alcock simply disappeared. George frowned momentarily as he searched for the man but he was well and truly gone, and word had it that the King was interested in the play…

Johnny was dead the next time George saw them do Man of Mode and he wept bitterly. He never went even though by all accounts Johnny begged for him and it hurt like he never thought it would. He tried to declare himself free of the damnable Earl of Rochester but nobody could escape Johnny’s orbit, least of all him.

He sank into a chair and thought of all the stolen whispers that had passed between them, there had been a time when George truly believed Johnny loved him but that fleeting consideration passed quickly. Now he thought back and it began to dawn on him that perhaps he dismissed the notion too swiftly.

The slap was sudden and deeply unexpected; he stared up into the wild and devastated eyes of the widow of Rochester and felt nothing but shame.

“He begged me to bring you to him.” She whispered, soft and dangerous. “I wrote to you time and time again, I even sent Alcock on the first night of your blasted play.” She paused as a shuddering sob of a breath took over her.  “He loved you, and your play was more important. I think perhaps you are more alike than you want to believe, Mr Etherege.” She spat his name with the purest of venom and once again, that hurt.

George had was silent as she gave up and stormed away, what could he possibly say? What words could he think of that could make any of this better?

He rested his head in his hands and cried for his dead friend, his dead lover and for his own breaking heart. He barely noticed the hand on his shoulder and when he looked up, it was at the face of the King whose own eyes shone in the candlelight.

“George.” The King said in a low voice, his left hand still on George’s shoulder and his right proffering a handkerchief. “Johnny was...” The King paused and George’s rebellious mind provided him with any number of adjectives to fill that space, all of which made the tears flow ever faster. The King squeezed his shoulder in sympathy and actually knelt to his level. “He would forgive you.”

George trembled with the effort of keeping his voice steady. “I ignored his pleas.”

“You concentrated on your play, as he would have done. Do not think that he wouldn’t.” The King said quite pragmatically. “But the play itself is testament to your feelings, don’t forget that.”

And with another squeeze of his shoulder, the King left George in his chair, sniffling into a royal handkerchief and contemplating the words of a monarch wiser than most could realise. It still didn’t bring Johnny back and George’s heart still shattered.

_I look upon a pinhead and I see angels dancing._


End file.
